Monday, November 22, 2010

The alarm sounds. Snooze. Wake. Snooze again. I pull the covers over my head in denial of what I know awaits me. Laundry again piled up, dishes in the sink, dust on the furniture, mud on the floor. "Good mornin to me," I grumble. I secretly hope for the magic cleaning fairy to come and rescue me from the trenches, as the enemy whispers in my ear, "Why bother? You can't keep it clean." Then it just gets better...little footsteps trotting down the stairs this early can only mean one thing...wet bedsheets and a fussy child in need of a bathe to add to the chaos. Over the intercom comes the screams of number four, demanding breakfast and snuggles to calm his being awakened by number three going number one. (Sorry for the graphic verbage, that's what you call it when you have little ones:) So, I wave the white flag, surrender to the day and its demands and force my feet to the floor.

Tis the season! A season of little messes making big ones. A season of overwhelming piles of laundry leaving me feeling overwhelming defeat. A season of fingerprint paintings and "Look Mommy, I'm making paw tracks!" A season of daily attempts to clean up what I'll have to start all over and clean up again tomorrow. Tears fill my eyes, I just have to cry...not because I am unhappy...I love being a mommy...but because I know I am defeated before I ever begin...and because I have no idea where that beginning will be.

Huff, Puff, Blow. Must start somewhere. One kid bathed and back to bed. One baby snuggled, fed and back to bed. I pick up the scattered toys to put them into the basket, really wanting to throw them out the door. I find amongst the menagerie...a radio, belonging to my 3 yr old, that begins to play a song very familiar with my season.

"Oh I woke up this mornin with my guitar so rusty, so rusty that I wanted to scream. But, instead of screamin, I spent my mornin cleanin and now my guitar plays like a dream." "Bit by Bit I'm gettin better. Little by little I'm movin right along. Piece by Piece I'm puttin it together, learnin how to sing my song."

And God says to me, "You are my little one. And I clean up your daily messes, only to clean them up again tomorrow. And together we are doing it, one step at a time. Though, we'll never be finished, we've got to take the first step and bit by bit we'll get better and put the pieces together, and then you'll learn how to sing My song."

I hate when God does that. Convicted! Humbled! Called out!

I love when God does that. Revealed! Corrected! Redeemed!

I laugh at His gentle reminder. Okay, Daddy. I hear you, loud and clear.

He reaches out His hand, and offers me the broom and now I sweep to a different tune.